Geraldine's 
Treachery 



GERALDINE'S 
TREACHERY 



A PLAY IN FIVE ACTS 

By 
MAUDE E. SIMMONS 



(UrJlllS^O 



THE SHAKESPEARE PRESS, 

114-116 East 28th Street, 

New York. 

1913. 






Copyright, 1913, 
By 

MAUDE E. SIMMONS. 



>CU3 4 6419 



STAGE SETTING 

ACT I 

LAW OFFICE OF BERT HAMILTON. 
1 desk. 
1 desk chair. 
6 client chairs. 
1 floor mat. 
1 waste basket. 
1 wall hook. 
1 old fashioned leather couch. 

1 door. 

2 windows. 

1 book case with books. 
1 telephone. 

ACT II 

HOME OF HARRY DEAN. 

Tenement flat of 2 rooms. 

Kitchen, main room. 

1 cupboard. 

1 old style commode where confession is hidden. 

1 large round table with cloth cover (large) 
where Geraldine is hidden after murder. 

1 baby cradle. 

1 stove. 

3 plain chairs. 
1 rocker. 

1 long hall that can be seen from audience. 
1 door leading from hall into kitchen. 
1 window looking from hall into kitchen. 
1 door from kitchen to bed room. 



1 large bed. 

1 plain dresser. 

1 small stand with clock. 

1 door leading into hall from bedroom. 

ACT III 

HOME OF GERALDINE GARR. An elaborate 
parlor scene, with blue and gold furnishings. 

An Oriental cozy corner, hung with gold and 
silver drops, where Geraldine hides Harry Dean so 
he can see his wife pass in inner room in company 
with Bert Hamilton. 

1 large door opening in back parlor where old- 
fashioned fire-place can be seen by audience. 

ACT IV 
Setting same as Act 2. 

ACT V, SCENE I 

HOME OF HARRY DEAN. 
Lapse of ten years. 
1 elaborate furnished library. 

ACT V, SCENE II 
Street scene. Winter setting and snow. 

ACT V, SCENE III 
Same as scene I. 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

In five Acts and three Scenes. 
Time Present. 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 

Bert Hamilton A young attorney in love with 

Geraldine Carr. 

Harry Dean A young clerk in the employ of 

Geraldine's father. 

Grace Dean Harry's wife, at one time Ger- 
aldine's friend. 

Gladys Dean Daughter of Harry and Grace. 

Geraldine Carr. . . . Daughter of a wealthy banker, 
in love with Harry Dean. 

James Man servant. 

Jane Maid servant. 

Act I Bert Hamilton's office. 

Act II Harry Dean's home. 

Act III Home of Geraldine Carr. 

Act IV Harry Dean's home, where the murder is 
committed. 

Act V First Scene — Harry Dean's home after a 
lapse of ten years. 

Second Scene — Street scene, ground cov- 
ered with snow. 
Third Scene — Harry Dean's home. 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 



ACT I 

BERT HAMILTON'S OFFICE 

BERT HAMILTON— (Enters office, hangs up hat 
and coat, speaks while toying with letters on desk.) 
I must and shall have an answer from that woman 
today. My patience is about exhausted. Why was 
I so unlucky as to fall in love with Geraldine Garr? 
She still cares for this man Dean, and must have 
some object in asking me to wait six months. She 
is as deep as the sea and yet I love her. She has 
nothing to gain, absolutely nothing. Three months 
ago no man was climbing the ladder of fame faster 
than I, and now I cannot get my senses together 
long enough at a time to do one good day's work. 
My love for this woman will be my ruin. God, I 
feel like murdering this man Dean with his hand- 
some boyish face. Bah! he is a puppet. Think 
what Geraldine's money and her father's influence 
would do for me, but without her they would be as 
nothing. Why can she not listen to reason and 
become my wife at once? I would take a month's 
vacation out in a quiet village, where the noise and 
rattle of the city are not known, and what a heaven 
on earth it would be ! Bah ! I am day-dreaming. I 
must try and work today. There is the McGlel- 
lan case, that must be seen to today; also the 
Jones case needs attention. I cannot put them off 
any longer. I must get my senses together long 
enough to accomplish something. Some one is 



8 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

coming down the hall. Another client I suppose, 
but I hope they will pass by, for I am in no mood to 
talk business with anyone today. 

GERALDINE— (Enters.) Good morning, Bert. 
My, what a frightful mood you must be in. Busi- 
ness rushing? 

BERT — Yes, rushing by the door. Excuse me, 
Geraldine, everything is in disorder, but this is an 
unexpected pleasure I assure you. It is an old say- 
ing that "great minds run in the same direction." 
I was just thinking of you. 

GERALDINE— Bert, I don't believe you are a bit 
pleased to see me, and your face does not speak of 
pleasure. Your thoughts could not have been 
pleasant ones. 

BERT — Excuse me, Geraldine, but I owe you an 
apology for not offering you a chair; the old office 
chairs are not much to offer though the best I can 
afford. 

GERALDINE— 0, they will do; really, Bert, you 
have a very lax office boy. I notice the dusting has 
not been done. You are too easy. 

BERT — Never mind, Geraldine, darling. You 
say my face wears an unpleasant expression. You 
perhaps know the reason why. 0, come darling! 
Why not tell me your object in waiting so long. 
See, my business is dropping off. I cannot work, 
nor am I the same man. If you would but explain, 
Geraldine; please tell me your reason for waiting. 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 9 

GERALD1 NE— -Bert, have a little patience ! Why 
can you not be reasonable? You have not known 
me a year yet. I came this morning to tell 
you a story. No doubt you have heard part of it — 
not a pleasant one I assure you. Bert, dear, I want 
you to help me. I can trust you and you are the 
only one who can help me. So small a favor I ask, 
then your answer comes : it will please you. Say 
you will do anything under the heavens for me, 
Bert. Ah, I knew you would. 

BERT — Go on, Geraldine. I knew you had an 
object for coming. I will do anything and every- 
thing that lies in my power. Geraldine, darling, 
you will not keep me waiting three long, weary 
months, but continue your story. 

GERALDINE — Are we alone, Bert? Listen, then, 
I will tell you my story. First you have heard that 
my father is the richest man in New York. I am his 
only child, having never been denied one wish. Ah, 
Bert, I can hardly tell you. 

BERT — Don't try, Geraldine. It does not interest 
me. No doubt I know too much now, and don't 
care to hear of your love for another man, but you 
have strayed away from the subject. I am anxious 
to grant your favor and receive your answer. 

GERALDINE — Have you the patience to hear a 
woman's lovesick story and then give her your 
help? About two years ago a young clerk came to 
work in my father's office, by name Harry Dean. He 
was poor but, 0, so handsome. I shall never forget 
the first time I saw him. Ah, Bert, the feeling is 



10 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

still there. I drove by in my car to call for father, 
and Harry Dean came out to tell me that father was 
busy. 0, God, if I could but forget! I looked in his 
face and only heard a part of what he said. It was 
that father would not keep me waiting long. He re- 
turned to the office and I waited just an hour. Yes, 
Bert, I was dreaming. The time did not seem five 
minutes. I could see that bright handsome face, 
those great blue eyes and refined features. I woke 
up to realize that this boy had stolen my heart. 
Then father came. As we drove home I asked of 
this boy. Father said he was poor but ambitious — 
had come to him highly recommended. Wait, Bert, 
you must listen. I will make the story short. I 
had father ask him to dine with us the next evening 
and I dare not think how it ended. 

BERT — Geraldine, why do you tell me all this? 
I love you so it is not pleasant to me. Will you not 
forget this man and become my wife? You know 
I have social and political prestige, and in a few 
years will be placed where I can give you every 
pleasure the world affords, and I swear to make you 
happy. This man Dean never loved you, my darl- 
ing. Look, my business is going to hell. I cannot 
work, you are on my mind each hour in the day. 
Your face appears on all my papers. Gome, give 
way and become my wife. 

GERALDINE— stop, Bert. I must and shall 
tell you all, so you will understand why I seek your 
help. My love for this man has made me a fiend. 
Once I had as true and tender a heart as ever God 
gave woman but now I spend hours dreaming of 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 11 

nothing - but revenge. You will help me, Bert. I 
will continue the story. Harry Dean came to dine 
with us and came every evening for about five 
months. Every time he came and went my love 
grew stronger. There was not a cloud in the sky. 
One bright beautiful morning I arose early and 
while out on the terrace I received a letter. I can 
remember how pleased I was. It was from my dear 
girl friend whom I had not seen since we parted at 
school — bright, laughing Grace Elliott. She was 
coming to visit me. How could I wait for the even- 
ing to come and with it Harry! I was so anxious 
to tell him the grand good news, and that evening 
when I told him there came a smile to his face and 
he said in a joshing way: "I might fall in love with 
her." I laughed too. Impossible ! I was so sure he 
loved me and meant to ask me to Become his wife. 
But at last the day arrived for her coming, and two 
girls were never more pleased to embrace each other. 
I thought I would not tell her of my love, but keep 
it as a surprise, and when Harry came that evening 
I introduced them. Think, Bert, I stood by and saw 
his blue eyes grow brighter and larger, and from 
that hour on he never was the same. Ha! ha! It 
was love at first sight, and wherever Grace was he 
followed like a little puppy dog; you could find him 
at her heels. Yes, she stole him from me, and I 
never will be content until I make her suffer as I 
have done. But not him, no, not him. I would not 
harm one hair in his head. It is her I hate, and 0, 
so bitter! 

BERT — Calm yourself, Geraldine! Why tell any 
more? No good can come of my knowing it, and re- 



12 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

venge will help none. You seem to forget the favor 
I am to grant. Can you not come to the point at 
once? 

GERALDINE — You say give up. No, never! 
See my plans fall to naught? Bert, you shall help 
me. You will understand there is not much more to 
tell. She, this friend of mine, had just visited me 
one month. I dare not think of it. They planned 
to meet early one morning and remained away all 
day. When they returned, and he presented her as 
his wife, I nearly lost my reason ; but an inner voice 
whispered to me — be silent; your time will come. 
And from that hour, night and day, I have planned 
and schemed. Now the time I have waited and 
longed for is here. They have been married just 
one year and ten months. I have kept trace of them 
and find they have one child — a little girl. They are 
very poor and she, his darling, becomes more dis- 
satisfied every day. I shall call on her today, but 
not as her friend — God, no! only to work her ruin 
and downfall, as she heedlessly worked mine. 0, 
Bert, what a pleasure it will be to see her head bowed 
in shame? Ah, I can hardly wait. 

BERT — Geraldine, why excite yourself! I see 
now the favor that is expected of me. I am to help 
work this woman's ruin. I do not like the idea. I 
ask you now to stop where you are. 

GERALDINE — Bert, you must not and shall not 
fail me! My one thought is to make a beggar of 
this woman who stole my love. Listen, dear, your 
part is not much and it means so much to me. You 
are to be at my house this evening at nine. I will 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 13 

plan to have her there and without her husband. I 
will call there this morning and take her by sur- 
prise. Of course I will make a great fuss over her 
and pity her very much. Offer my friendship and 
she will be easily handled. As I am leaving, just 
as an afterthought, I will invite her to this party 
I have planned. Of course he will not attend, but 
she will. You shall meet her there, seemingly fall 
in love with her, flatter her — all women like flattery. 
You will be her escort to the party, with the under- 
standing that I am to be with her but in the next 
carriage; then I shall remain at home. I shall 
have work to do. Your part in our little drama 
is not hard; then I can prove that she attended the 
party without me and with you, her lover, as an 
escort. You shall be innocent — you thought her 
single. 

BERT — Geraldine, I do not quite understand. 
What can you gain? If you love this man yet, how 
can you love me and become my wife? What good 
will it do you to break up this home and ruin this 
woman's life? And that is your object if I guess 
right. It is bad business. 

GERALDINE— What can I gain ? Revenge! Ah, 
how sweet the word sounds. I have waited two long 
years, and now you would be soft-hearted, but I 
suppose I can get some one else that will help me 
for the same reward that I offer you. There is one 
other I know of who will gladly help me. But really, 
Bert, listen ; I was beginning to think a great deal of 
you, and it hurts me to see you take the part of a 
coward. Of course you can suit yourself. 



14 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

BERT — You tempt me sorely, Geraldine. You 
offer the greatest prize a man can be offered. But 
continue, I have not heard all your plans. Yes, my 
darling, I will help you. When do we start? 

GERALDINE— (Aside. I thought so, poor fool.) 
Today, Bert, at once; it cannot be too soon. I have 
waited so long. Ah, Bert, she is a simple little fool, 
and will be so easily handled. You must be on 
guard and not allow her to see your love for me. 
You are to pose as a very rich man, and in love 
with her at first sight. If she finds you care for me 
that would be ruinous to our plans. Remember the 
hour is nine. I will have everything arranged. I 
was just thinking how handsome you are growing 
of late Bert. I shall be real proud of you as my hus- 
band. 

BERT — Do you really mean it, my darling? But, 
Geraldine, a man's wife and home is all that he has 
that amounts to a great deal to him, and I confess 
I don't like to take part in the breaking up of this 
little home that may mean so much to this man. We 
are all human at times, and that old rule that we 
were taught in our childhood days : "Do unto others 
as you would have them do unto you." God, what 
I would not do to the wretch that would break up 
my home or cause your ruin, my darling ! 

GERALDINE— (Aside. Poor fool, he will never 
have the home to break up when I get through with 
him.) Well, I might have expected this. Your nerve 
is failing you. Bert, dear, it is hard, but 1 
must say good bye, and I don't like to think I may 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 15 

never see you again, as I had already planned our 
happy future. (Aside. Will the fool never come to 
my terms?) 

BERT — If you but mean what you say, my dar- 
ling, you must not talk of leaving me. Geraldine, 
the love of a woman will compel a man to do most 
anything — to sink as low as a dog. Sometimes a 
man will even become a thief just for the love of a 
woman; but if that woman be a good pure woman, 
in the sight of God, that man may soar to the highest 
goal in life, but we men are as clay in the hands of 
the moulders. We can be moulded into various 
shapes and forms all through the one little thing — 
love — and what we won't do when love compels, 
God only knows. How I love you, Geraldine, and 
to prove this love I will take the downward step, 
but God forbid that I may ever go far enough to 
have too large a stain against me that it cannot be 
wiped out on that day of judgment. But' what am 
I to do with this woman after the party? 

GERALDINE— Just leave that to me, Bert. Why, 
really, I admire you. I did not know you were such 
a sincere man, but I am really proud of you. 

BERT — We have to be sincere at times to gain 
our point in life. 

GERALDINE — Your word that you will never re- 
veal my plans or break faith with me. You know 
money does a great many things. You would much 
sooner have my love than hate. Gome, swear to 
me! 



16 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

BERT — If you keep your word to me, Geraldine, 
there will be no cause for me to break faith with 
you; but God forgive me for my part in this day's 
work. 

GERALDINE— (Aside. Why, how theatrical 
Bert is becoming!) But really, Bert, God will have 
nothing to do with this day's work, and I am anx- 
ious to begin. After you have taken her to the par- 
ty, return her to me. I shall manage the rest. My 
friends are ready to attend this party on ten min- 
utes' notice, whenever I think the night is fit. You 
take the rest of today for laying your plans and so 
arrange your business that it can be left for a 
while and when I have finished with her, my friend, 
I will join you. You will be there, don't fail! 

BERT — You may depend upon me. I will not 
fail you ; but, darling, you will not keep me waiting 
long when you have separated them? When your 
revenge is completed, then you will come to me, my 
darling? 

GERALDINE— Yes, Bert, the time will not be 
long. I must say good bye. Nine P. M. sharp, this 
evening. Don't let it slip your mind, dear. 

BERT — Good morning, Geraldine. I will be 
there. 

GERALDINE— Good morning, Bert; don't keep 
me waiting. 

GERALDINE (Aside, as she exits.) Yes, fool 
come and do my dirty work. Why, really, he is 
easier handled than she; but if I can get Harry he 
will look as nothing to me, 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 17 

BERT — (left alone.) Will she be true to her 
word? She must. No, I will not fail her; but this 
is bad business. Who would think that a minister's 
son, brought up and taught to walk that right and 
narrow path, would for the love of a woman, forget 
that kind old father's teaching! How many, many 
times have I heard my father say, whom God has 
joined together let no man put asunder. No, no, 
Geraldine, I cannot, cannot do it. Gome back, you 
must release me. (Goes to door and opens it.) 
No, she is out of hearing. God, how can I do 
it? Too late now, I cannot be released. I must 
live up to my promise, though it be the ruination 
of my soul. Soul! has a dog like me a soul? Bah! 
too late to talk about my soul. I have cast the die, 
but deep in my heart I pity this little family which 
I am to help set apart. And the child — what in the 
name of heavens will become of it? I dare not 
stop and think. (Looks at watch.) Ten-thirty, I 
must go to court and arrange my business for an im- 
mediate departure. 

(CURTAIN.) 



18 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 



ACT II 

HOME OP HARRY DEAN 

Opens with Dean's wife on the stage. 

GRACE — 0, how I hate to be the errand boy, 
the servant, anything and everything! If I have 
to continue to live this life much longer I shall 
surely lose my reason. At first it was not so bad, 
when we had the dear little cottage, but now it 
has come to two rooms. My father had more in 
his wash house at home than we have here. I 
might have expected this. Married a poor man for 
love! 0, dear, love is all right as long as poverty 
is not a part of it. If I had only learned to work; 
but work — I never thought I would have to work 
brought up as I was, and to think what I 
have brought myself to. I hate to admit that I 
become more hateful and dissatisfied every day. I 
shall not work today; no, I will take this one day 
off and read. This new book has such a grand 
title, "Rosaline's Lover." I shall have six hours 
to read until Harry comes. Strange how I can 
forget all this misery by reading. Poor Harry, 
I do love him. He was so sure my father would 
come to our assistance. Mean old bear. I knew 
better. I, his only child! What pleasure can he 
have in knowing how I am situated and not even 
come to my assistance? Now, just hark, I do believe 
that is baby. She does not sleep ten minutes at a 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 19 

time. 0, what a cute wee baby you is. Mama's lit- 
tle lamb. I do love baby. If it were not for her 
I would leave at once and go back to my old home. 
Yes, I just hate it all. 0, no, no, I do not mean it. 
How wicked of me ! Leave Harry, so good and kind. 
Why, he is the most patient husband woman ever 
had. I just wish I was half as good and patient, 
but I am afraid I will never be. No, baby, your 
Mama has no patience, but for heaven's sakes close 
your eyes and I will sing a lullaby and dream of 
the dear old home! How I wish we could all live 
there — you and I and papa. Now, I am sure that 
was some one at the door. I do hope it is not Ger- 
aldine. Her note said she would call soon, but she 
is so proud and scornful I hate to have her see my 
poverty. (Grace opens the door.) Ah, Geraldine, 
I never expected to see you again. It has been such 
a long time, but come in. I do not like you to see 
my poverty. 

GERALDINE — (enters.) 0, never mind your 
poverty, my dear. Are you not glad to see me? I 
see, you are day-dreaming again. The same old 
tricks, Grace, that will make you old and wrinkled. 

GRACE — Yes, Geraldine I know, but tell me have 
you seen or heard of my father of late? Harry is 
not at home, but sit down and stay a while. 

GERALDINE — (dusts chair.) I am just as well 
pleased. Harry does not care for my company, and 
but for you Grace, I should not have come. I have 
so much to say to you, my dear, but surely Grace, 
this is a joke — come down to living in two rooms. 
(Laughs.) Surely Harry can do better than this. 



20 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

Why, let me look at you, dear. Yes, I believe you 
look ten years older and no wonder. Why really 
Grace I feel as though I was in a small band box. 
How do you ever endure it? 

GRACE — Geraldine, do not dare laugh at me. 
You know I would have it different but Harry is out 
of luck and can do no better. Geraldine, you really 
do not mean I am getting to look so old? I do 
worry some, but Harry is so good and kind I do not 
like to complain. 

GERALDINE— Why worry, Grace? You chose 
your lot, now stick by it. Grace, you stole your 
husband from a girl whom I know. She would 
have made him rich and her god, but why tell you 
now. You poor abused darling. I did not mean to 
laugh at you or hurt your feelings. Poor little 
friend of the olden days. I have thought of you so 
many times, and now when I find you situated like 
this it really breaks my heart. I have been thinking 
of our happy school days so often of late, and I said 
this morning I must go and offer my help and friend- 
ship. You know Grace I was real spunky to think 
you did not let me be your bridesmaid. Why really, 
Grace, there is a wrinkle on your forehead, and if 
you don't soon have a change from this you will 
have a score of them. Gome, darling, you need 
cheering and a good true friend and — what is this 
Grace? 0, the dear little lamb! Why, see Grace, 
it knows I am its mama's friend. See, she smiles 
at me and she looks just like her pretty mama, Grace. 
She has not one look of Harry, and how I shall love 
her. Her name Grace? 



* 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 21 

GRACE— Baby's name is Gladys Geraldine. 

GERALDINE— (on the side. How dared she 
give that brat my name? Me love her offspring? 
No, I just wish I dared murder her, but I must calm 
myself.) Grace, dear, how long has it been since 
you have been anywhere? A long time, I am sure. 
I have a pleasant surprise for you. I came to invite 
you and Harry to attend the moonlight party I am 
giving. It is something entirely new and will be 
grand. Don't say one word until you have heard 
me out. If Harry should refuse to attend, which he 
might, if I try real hard I might plan a way for you 
to go, and what a lovely time you shall have my dear. 
Now, don't say that you will not come. 

GRACE — Geraldine, why do you come here and 
tempt me ? You know that Harry will not hear to it, 
and should my father hear that I were to be one of 
the party he would be there, and I cannot give him 
the satisfaction of seeing me appear in the same 
wardrobe he bought me and I have had nothing new 
in the past year. You need not look so surprised, 
Geraldine. 

GERALDINE— Why should I not be surprised? 
Think of it, Grace! But you shall have something, 
and if Harry will not listen to reason don't allow 
him to spoil your pleasures. Remember, Grace, you 
are not a child. Your father will not attend. He 
has not been well of late. Dear little friend, I am so 
anxious to do something for you. I have a pleasant 
surprise for you. You shall have a beautiful new 
gown for this party. Now, come, don't be proud, 



22 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

as poverty and pride do not go together. Say you 
will accept and use your woman's right and go. 
Your answer, Grace? 

GRACE — Geraldine, it would be delightful and 
you are so kind to offer me the gown, but really I 
hate to tell you my husband becomes more fond of 
me every day. I cannot leave his sight one hour of 
the day. What excuse could I offer? He will not 
take me I am sure, and I confess I should like one 
evening's pleasure. 

GERALDINE— (On the side. Little fool, I shall 
punish her for telling me of this love for her. How 
can he be fond of her babyish face? I would not 
have believed they would live together this long, but 
if my scheme works, revenge, sweet revenge. Now, 
for the policy role.) You shall have one night's 
pleasure, dear, yes, you shall have a dozen nights' 
pleasure. Ah, such pleasure as you least expect. 
But, Grace, I don't believe you are as fond of me 
as in the old days. It hurts me, for I think so much 
of you. I have really been unhappy since we have 
been separated, and I would like to make life more 
pleasant for you. Listen, Grace. Do you know I 
have just the right plan, and if you can play your 
part, I will manage mine well. Harry will never 
find out. I shall send a message, saying I am quite 
ill and you know Harry is so goody-good he will 
not refuse to let you come and hold my poor aching 
head. Trust the rest to me, dear. Ah, trust me to 
the end. Now, I had almost forgot to mention my 
friend, Mr. Bert Hamilton, I want you to meet him. 
So handsome and rich; the very type of manhood. 
I know you shall like him. 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 23 

GRACE — You forget Geraldine, I am married, and 
should care for no man but my husband, but I shall 
be pleased to meet him as your friend, 

GERALDINE— Why, you silly child, you must 
not take me as I sound, but as I mean. 0, see Grace, 
I have been here more than two hours, and must say 
good-bye for a short time. You will come? Say 
you will, dear. 

GRACE — I will try Geraldine, so you may send a 
message, but I don't like lying to Harry. It is not 
quite right. You don't know how kind and good he 
is, but then I am getting just a little tired of this 
poor life and dull time and I hate living in two 
rooms. 

GERALDINE — Who could blame you, my bright 
beautiful bird, but you look for the message most 
any time and you will not fail me. I will see you 
safe home again and make all excuses to Harry. 
Bye-bye until the party. 

GRACE — Good-bye, Geraldine. I will wait and 
long for the time. I am so glad you came. 

GERALDINE— (Going into hall.) Fool, soft 
head, you are as wax in my hands! Yes, I will 
send the message, and I will do more than that. I 
will prove her false, false in his eyes. Then, then 
I will teach her to come with her fair baby face and 
steal him from me just when my game was almost 
won. 

(Geraldine exit.) 



24 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

GRACE— (Alone.) Six o'clock. Harry is late. 
Gould anything have happened to him? No, it 
could not be; I would hear of it, And shall I tell 
Harry Geraldine was here about the party? No, I 
am sure if I do he will not attend or want me to. 
Were not Geraldine's diamonds lovely? And mine 
are all gone. 0, well, I will sit down and read. 
Harry will surely be here soon. Yes, Geraldine will 
arrange so that Harry will never find out. I can 
trust her. I will go. I cannot stand the temptation. 
Was it not kind of Geraldine to offer the gown? I 
just wonder if she will get a real nice one, and if it 
will be becoming. I would like to look just lovely 
before this Mr. Hamilton. Geraldine said he wa9 
rich and handsome. Ah, well, my Harry is not rich 
but handsome, and how happy we would be if he 
were only rich. Yes, I am tired of it all. There is 
nothing here but poverty. How surprised Geraldine 
looked when I told her I had nothing new in a year. 
I suppose it will be many years if I remain here, and 
I shall never learn to work. How mean of my father. 
He could just as well help us, but I shall never ask it 
of him. Now I come to think, Geraldine did not tell 
me the date of this party. I wish it were tonight. 
Hark, that is Harry's footstep in the hall now. Yes, 
I am sure, and I have no dinner ready. 

(Husband enters.) 

HARRY — Good evening, my dear little wife. 
How are you and baby this evening? I am just 
a little late. Can my doll forgive me? I had some 
very important business and have been planning 
for better times. My darling has been dreaming 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 25 

and has not dinner ready but I shall sit down and 
read the paper. It will not take you long. Now, 
how is Papa's baby this evening? Well, and bright. 
I tell you, Grace, darling, the one thing that we 
have to be thankful for is good health. 

GRACE — I know, Harry, but I am getting so tired 
of having nothing and doing the work myself. 
Health is a very nice thing, but I do wish we had 
money. I was not dreaming. I have had company. 
You cannot guess who has been here. 

HARRY — No, my darling, it surely was not your 
father. 

GRACE — No, Harry, you are wrong. My father 
will never come. It was Geraldine. Just think, after 
so long a time. She wants to be kind to us and has 
offered to help us. Is that not kind of her? But, 
Harry, she is not well at all. Since she has gone I 
have been thinking of her, my father and the old 
life. That is why dinner is not ready, and — listen 
Harry, Geraldine may send for me to sit with her 
at any time. She does not go out often. She says 
she is sad and lonely. 

HARRY — Grace, I do not like to deny you a 
friend, but I would much rather Geraldine would 
stay away. I am sure her sudden appearance means 
no good. Her visits and her fine airs will make my 
darling more dissatisfied. Why, Grace, let me look 
at you. Yes, Grace, you are blushing, and what a 
strange look there is in your bright beautiful face. 
Surely my darling is well. I see you are worried. 
Never mind dinner, come and sit here. I have some 



26 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

news for my little wife. I am sure it will please 
her. Listen, Grace, we are to have better times, be- 
fore long. You remember a month ago I spoke of 
a Mr. Gerome. He is superintendent of the big iron 
works. I am to meet this man this evening. He is 
trying to place me in a better position. I did not 
intend to tell you until tomorrow, but my darling 
looks so sad this evening I cannot keep the grand, 
good news. Now, cheer up, little wife. We shall 
have the cottage back and your servant. Now, don't 
that sound fine? But see, Grace, it is eight P. M. I 
must leave you for a short time, but you will have 
something to dream about. Don't pout little girl, 
but kiss me and wish me good luck. 

GRACE — 0, Harry, I am so afraid, but I do hope 
you will not fail. 

Good-bye, dear. 

(Husband exit.) 

GRACE — Dear me, why will my face give me 
away? Harry knew I was lying to him. I shan't 
go if Geraldine does send the message. I will be 
patient, for I have a dear good husband. (Goes to 
glass.) But Geraldine is right. My beauty is fading 
fast, and I will never have anything living with 
Harry. The cottage and servant. Ha, ha ! I will be 
the servant, and I just hate to work. I do hope Mr. 
Gerome will do something for Harry, for my pa- 
tience is about exhausted. Gome baby, Mama will 
rock you a while and read. Some one coming down 
the hall? Perhaps Harry has forgotten something. 
No, it is not he, or he would come in. 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 27 

(Opening door.) Gome in, please. Yes, I am 
Mrs. Dean. 

MESSENGER BOY— (Enters.)— I have a message 
for Mrs. Harry Dean. 

GRACE— Well, I am Mrs. Harry Dean. You will 
wait; there may be an answer. (Reads message.) 
"Dear Grace : I am so lonesome and not near so well 
this evening. Can you please come and sit with me? 
Tell your husband he can spare you one evening. 
Your true and loving friend, Geraldine." You may 
go, there is no answer. (Messenger exit.) 

GRACE — (Alone.) How strange she did not tell 
me it was so soon! Shall I go? Yes, I cannot re- 
fuse. It means such a good time and a new gown. 
Harry will never find out. Geraldine is so clever and 
will see to that. I shall just write Harry a note, call 
Mrs. Harris to look in at baby, put on my wraps and 
go. (Writes note.) "Dear Harry: Geraldine is very 
ill and has sent for me to sit with her. Don't be 
angry and don't worry. I have asked Mrs. Harris 
to look in at baby. I shall not stay over night. Your 
loving wife, Grace." There it is done. Now I will 
pin the note on baby. He will see it there sooner 
than any other place. (Opens hall door.) Mrs. Har- 
ris, will you look in at baby? She is asleep and I 
have to go out for a few minutes. Thank you, ever 
so much. Now I wonder if Geraldine could have 
gotten my gown so soon? I suppose she had already 
gotten it as a surprise. I do wish Harry could see 
me, but I must hurry or he may return and not 
allow me to go. 



28 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

(Kisses baby.) Dear little baby; don't waken 
until your Papa returns. Good-bye two little rooms, 
Life is so dull here. I am going for one night's 
pleasure. (Grace exits.) 

MRS. HARRIS— (Enters.) Now and begorra 
isn't she terrible? Sure one night's pleasure. That's 
all the young wives think of these days. Now would 
you believe I have been dying to enter these rooms 
and look around ever since that stuck-up thing 
moved in. Its no wonder you read of a divorce case 
every day in the week. The poor man — sure he's a 
nice lad. Tips his hat to me when he meets me in 
the hall. I suppose he's working over-time while his 
wife's out having pleasure. Sure things is different 
when she comes in the hall. It's good morning and 
never looks off her book. Dime novels! It's little 
work the women of these days do. Now, if she was 
left with eight young ones to feed like myself, it 
would be washing over the tub she'd be or she'd be 
after sending them to the orphan's home. (Baby 
fusses.) There, there you poor lamb. Ah, ha! a 
note. Now, its no harm for me to read it. (Reads 
note.) Ain't she terrible? Sit with a friend. Ah, 
well, he might believe her. Now its sure I will sing 
you to sleep, poor little thing. (She sings song.) 
Now, there, I better be after going. I just stepped 
in to look after the baby. She may return and I 
don't want to appear nosey. (Exit Mrs. Harris.) 

HARRY— (Returning.) Dear little wife. Won't 
she be glad when she hears the good news. $150 
per month! Think what she can have! My bright 
beautiful darling shall have a pretty new dress the 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 29 

first month. Hello, how strange everything looks 
and how silent — Grace dear, have you retired? I 
have good news, darling. (Looks in inner room.) 
What, not here? Surely my senses are not leaving 
me. 0, Grace, dear Grace, don't hide, my darling. 
Surely Grace could not have gone out and left the 
baby. No, she is just playing a little trick on me. 
I have stayed longer than she expected. Now, I 
come to think about it, how strange she looked this 
evening. There was something wrong and God 
helping me, I will find out what it is. Ah, a note 
pinned to baby! That will explain. I am always 
so hasty. Perhaps her father has sent for her. I'll 
bet that is it. (Reads note.) "Dear Harry: Geral- 
dine is very ill and has sent for me to sit with her. 
Don't be angry and don't worry. I asked Mrs. Har- 
ris to look in at baby. I shall not stay over night. 
Your dear wife, Grace." 0, God, can Grace be lying 
to me? No, she is as pure as an angel. I should as 
soon believe the stars would fall as that she, my wife, 
would lie to me. There is some one at the bottom 
of this. She told me Geraldine was here today. 
Can she be the guilty one? How could Grace listen 
to her and go away in my absence ? No, my God no, 
I cannot think ill of her, my pure white love. I am 
sure she loves me, but she is just a little tired of the 
poverty. But why waste time ? She would not leave 
baby long alone. She perhaps has gone for just an 
hour. I will go over for her and if I do find Geral- 
dine up to anything, God help her. How surprised 
they will both be? 

(Husband exits.) 

(CURTAIN.) 



30 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 



ACT III. 

geraldine's home and parlor scene. 

GERALDINE— (On the stage.)— How I hate this 
girl whom I once loved. Why does she not come? 
I hardly can wait for the time. How much happier 
my life would have been had she not come between 
us. I am sure Harry loved me until she came to visit 
me. I cannot see how he would prefer her to me. 
Bah, she is a simple little fool, and if she had kept 
out of the way I should have been his wife. He 
would not be toiling for his daily bread. My father's 
money and influence could have made him a great 
political man — and Bert, how I hate him. The clock 
is striking eight and Bert should be here, and I 
wanted her to arrive first. 

(Tap at door.) 

GERALDINE— Come in. 

Servant enters and bows. 

GERALDINE— Well, are you dumb? What are 
you standing there for with your mouth shut? 

SERVANT— (Excited.)— Yes, no; a lady to see 
you, but she has no card. Name, Mrs. Dean. 

GERALDINE — James you are nothing but a 
blockhead, and if I was not so in need of you you 
would leave here at once. Show the lady in and be 
quick about it. (Servant bows out.) 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 31 

. GERALDINE — Somehow I cannot trust that fel- 
low. He reminds me of a snake. Luck is with me. 

Servant returns and announces Mrs. Dean. 

GERALDINE — Ah, Grace, dear, you have gotten 
away. I am so glad. James, you may go. How 
dare you stand there? 

(Servant exit.) 

GRACE — Yes, Geraldine dear, I got away just 
fine. Luck seemed to favor us. Do you know Geral- 
dine, I feel nervous. Harry had to go out for an 
hour or so. Some business; I did not pay much 
attention. I sat dreaming when your message came. 
I was much surprised you did not tell me the party 
was tonight. I kept my word and I am here. I left 
a note for Harry. Do you think he will suspicion 
anything is wrong, Geraldine? 

GERALDINE— Of course not, my dear. Don't 
think about it. Your pleasures must not be marred 
with one single thought of Harry or those two little 
poverty stricken rooms. Gome see your gown. It 
is beautiful. You shall look like yourself once more. 
You may step into the other room and Jane will help 
you to dress. You will excuse me as I am looking 
for Mr. Hamilton. Hurry love, for I am dying to see 
you in your pretty gown. 

GRACE — I shall hurry, Geraldine, and also try 
to please you in my looks. How dear and kind of 
you, but I do wish Harry could see me. (Kisses 
Geraldine.) Now that is your pay for my gown. 



32 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

GERALD1NE— Thank you, but hurry Grace. You 
are real late now. (Exit Grace.) 

GERALDINE— Rev Harry! No, he shall be mine, 
My Harry. My God, if that woman kisses me again 
I will murder her. Yes, I am good and kind. I 
might have been had she not crossed my path. How 
hot my face is, but God knows my heart has been 
on fire for two years past. Now, the time is here. 
Why is Bert late? He may have got weak-hearted. 
He dare not fail me. I should stop at nothing. My 
hand is right on the brim of revenge. If he fails me, 
what can I do? I shall have to say I am ill and 
remain at home. No, no, it must not come to that, 
after I have worked so hard and everything has 
worked to my advantage. I believe I am just a little 
nervous and that will never do. 

(Servant announces Mr. Bert Hamilton.) 

BERT — Good evening, Geraldine, am I late for 
the party? 

GERALDINE— Bert, just take the pleasure of 
kicking that servant out. He is the biggest dumb- 
head I ever had on the force. 

SERVANT — I'm moving, mam. 

GERALDINE— You are not late, Bert, but I began 
to worry. You would not dare be one minute late. 
See, I have grown somewhat nervous and I have 
planned a thousand ways should you have failed me. 
Listen, my lady is here. You have not forgotten 
your part? Don't be hasty and remember I am to 
come in the next carriage. 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 33 

BERT— Darling, how could I forget my part? 

My teacher has taught me my lesson too well. Geral- 

dine, we are quite alone, are we not? And you love 

me, darling? Say once more that you do. Say that 

•you will be my wife after this night's work is done. 

GE R A LDINE— Bert, this is no time for love-mak- 
ing. Why can you not wait? Have I not promised 
to be your wife? 

BERT — Geraldine, I ask you once more. Had 
we better not stop? You can gain nothing, and I 
feel like a damn scamp. 

GERALDINE— Coward! Stop where we are? 
No, never. Do you hear? Don't dare mention it to 
me. We have just begun. If you fail me now 1 
should lose my reason. If you love me, don't be 
cowardly, and do your part. 

BERT — Geraldine, my love for you is my ruin. 
It has made me stoop so low I am ashamed of my 
own face in the glass. A man that will stoop so low 
as to break up another man's home is just what you 
called me, a dastardly coward. Geraldine, you will 
not keep me waiting long. 

GERALDINE — But listen, my lady is coming. Do 
be careful. Don't forget to flatter her. Not too strong 
or you will frighten my bird away before I have 
had time to crush it. 

(Maid announces Mrs. Dean.) 

GRACE — Ah, Geraldine, I am quite rested now. 
I have not kept you waiting. Geraldine, I thought 
we were alone? 



34 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

GERALD1NE — Yes, my dear. How sweet and 
fresh you look. Gome, I wish you to meet Mr. Ham- 
ilton. Bert you shall be pleased to meet Mrs. Grace 
Dean — Mr. Bert Hamilton. 

GRACE — Mr. Hamilton, I am delighted to meet 
you. 

BERT — Mrs. Dean, the pleasure is mutual; op- 
portunity seldom affords a man to meet so fair a 
lady. Geraldine has spoken of you often. I must 
say my dreams have been disturbed. 

GRACE— Mr. Hamilton, you offend me by talk- 
ing that way. I am a married lady. I suppose you 
are to be one of the party this evening. My hushand 
does not care for such amusements, but you know 
we the weaker sex like to be amused. 

GERALDINE— Of course my dear, and don't 
mind Bert's compliments. His failing is flattery. 

GRACE — Do we not start at once, Geraldine? I 
was so afraid I had kept you waiting. 

GERALDINE — At once, my dear. Just allow Mr. 
Hamilton to assist you. I shall have Jane to help 
me. Gome dear, the carriages have been waiting for 
some time. 

BERT — Yes, allow me to assist you, Mrs. Dean. 
It will be a pleasure I assure you. My friend, Mr. 
Page, will attend Miss Geraldine. We are ready now 
and will start at once. I don't like being late. Geral- 
dine will follow in the next carriage. 

GRACE — Geraldine I would much rather you 
would ride in my carriage. 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 35 

GERALDINE — Gome, you are just nervous, my 
dear. I will not be ten paces back of you. 

(Exit three. Geraldine returning, throws off 
wraps.) 

GERALDINE — At last my point is gained. My, 
how weak I have become. I shall take just a small 
drink to stay my nerves. (Laughs.) Why, really, 
I think I am beginning to be jealous of Bert. Such 
attention and such flattery. I did not imagine the 
old boy was so clever. I guess not — me jealous of 
him. No, he is not my type of man. Now, if Bert 
only does as I have told him she will wish she had 
never stolen Harry from me. 0, you little innocent 
fool. Your moonlight party will be pleasant but 
you will have something to worry over when, you 
find I am not there. Go in the next carriage. She 
swallowed it like a fish does bait. Harry will be- 
lieve her false and divorce her. I shall not have 
worked for nothing and my promises to Bert — 0, 
well, I can get rid of him for about $50.00. There 
are many who will be willing to take the job, and 
I can manage her. That will be easy. When I 
get through with her he will scorn her so that she 
will be too proud to give an explanation. Harry, 
Harry, how I love you! What if my father should 
know? But he shall not. The bell. Some one's 
coming. If it be Harry. 

SER VANT— (Enters.) Mr. Dean is below and 
wishes to see you, my lady. 

GERALDINE — Show him up at once, James. 
You do not dare keep him waiting. (Servant exit:) 

On return announces Mr. Dean. 



36 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

HARRY — Good evening, Miss Geraldine, (looking 
around.) I expected to find you quite ill and my 
wife holding your poor aching head. I see she is 
not very attentive. (Looking around again.) Gome 
Mrs. Dean, you need not hide. I am after you. 

GERALDINE — Why, Harry, you really surprise 
me. Did Mrs. Dean not tell you she was to attend 
the moonlight party this evening? She has known 
it for over a week. 

HARRY — Miss Geraldine, for the love of God will 
you please explain? It may be I do not understand 
you. I expected to find my wife here. She left 
home and a note saying you were ill and had sent 
for her to sit with you. Here, you may read it. 
There must be some mistake. 

GERALDINE— (Reads note and laughs.) Why 
now, isn't your wife a sly little vixen. No, Mr. 
Dean, there is no mistake. Your wife has known 
this for some weeks. I called on her about three 
weeks ago and asked her to have you bring her to 
this party and when she came this evening unat- 
tended and without you I was just a little surprised. 
She said you were not well and should not attend. 

HARRY — Woman, you will please explain. My 
wife attend a party without me? She told me you 
called this afternoon for the first time. Now, you 
tell me you called some weeks ago. I must not 
understand. My wife could not lie to me. 

GERALDINE — Gome, Harry, you have too much 
confidence. Now, don't be angry with me when 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 37 

I tell you that Grace has surely lied to you. Why 
she told me only this morning that she was tired of 
your humble home and I am afraid your sweet little 
wife has played you a trick. But, Harry, you will 
believe me. I wanted you to come. She did not. 
There was a certain Mr. Hamilton among the party 
who is rich and handsome. She, your wife, knew 
he would look after her pleasures. 

HARRY — Stop, Miss Garr! Not another word. 
You forget yourself. You are speaking of my 
wife — the woman who bears my name — the mother 
of my child. I cannot believe you, but mind if I 
find she is false one lesson will be enough. Why are 
you not one of the party? 

GERALDINE — That is easy explained. I was 
taken quite ill at the last moment and decided to re- 
main at home, and when I found that you were not 
to be there, my pleasure was spoiled, but your dear 
little wife could not forgo the pleasure and remain 
at home. My friend, the young Mr. Hamilton, of- 
fered to attend her and she accepted the offer. 
God, Harry, please do not take it so hard. Hear me ! 
She, this woman, does not nor never did, love you. 
See, Harry, I would give every drop of blood in my 
heart for just one kind word from you. 

HARRY — Wait, stop, woman. Don't forget who 
you are talking to. Not another word, Miss Garr. 
You, you have played your cards well. The love 
of such a woman is not fit to receive a thought. 
That does not excuse her. I have decided all women 
are false. 



38 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

GERALDINE — Harry, let me just be your friend, 
and to prove there is one woman not false if you will 
but remain unseen I will prove to you what I have 
said. Harry we were friends once, and you were 
learning to love me when she, Grace, came and 
stole you from me. For the old love I still hold for 
you I will prove that friendship in time of trouble. 

HARRY — My God, woman, would you have me 
stoop to watch my wife? Though it will be hard I 
cannot take your word. My eyes must see what you 
say, Miss Garr. 

GERALDINE — Listen, Harry, they are returning. 
Gome, please, step behind this portiere, and be 
silent. You shall see your wife in a pretty new 
gown, a present from Mr. Hamilton, but remember 
you are not to make any scene. 

(Servant announces Mr. Hamilton and Mrs. 
Dean.) 

GRACE — Ah, Geraldine, I have had such a de- 
lightful evening. Are you feeling better now, dear? 

BERT — I explained to Mrs. Dean for your 
absence. 

GRACE — 0, Geraldine, I am sorry it is over. To- 
morrow I shall have to live the old life again. It will 
be much harder to bear. 

GERALDINE— Mr. Hamilton, you will please take 
Mrs. Dean down to the dining room. Lunch is 
served there. Excuse me. I never partake of lunch 
so late. My head is not quite well, 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 39 

GRACE — 0, Mr. Hamilton, I am nearly famished. 

(Exit both. Geraldine pulls curtain aside.) 

GERALDINE— Now, Harry, is that not quite 
enough? See, she has no thought of you. Now, I 
want to be your friend. Did she not look handsome 
in the new gown? Mr. Hamilton has very good 
taste. 

HARRY — Stop, don't say any more, Geraldine. 
You might go too far. I have seen and know all 
I care to, and will say good evening to you, Miss 
Garr. All women are alike and I would rather be 
without a friend. Such women as you do not know 
what pure love means, and may God forgive her and 
you too if you are the cause of this night's work. 

(Harry exit.) 

GERALDINE— (Alone.) Have I worked and 
sinned for naught? No, he is a fool and will come 
to me yet. That was surely proving her false. There 
was disappointment and hatred in his face, and how 
I hate her. He will leave her now, and if I could 
but manage to see him again. Yes, I must try but 
I have her to deal with first. My message I sent 
her. I must find out if she has destroyed it. There 
must be no proof against me. The game has gone 
too far. (Rings for maid.) Jane, you go down and 
ask Mrs. Dean to come to me. 

(Exit Maid.) 

GERALDINE— (Alone.) 0, God, now for my re- 
venge. Now, Grace Elliott, I will see you a ragged 



40 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

beggar on the streets and the love you stole from me 
must and shall be mine. 

(Mrs. Dean announced.) 

GERALDINE — So, Grace, you have had a delight- 
ful evening? 

GRACE — Ah, Geraldine, you have no idea of the 
pleasure this opportunity has afforded me. I have 
been just a little worried and have imagined all sorts 
of things. Why are you looking so cross, dear? 

GERALDINE— Do I look cross? You forget my 
headaches. But, Grace, I was wondering what you 
did with the message. It was such a silly little note. 
I hope you destroyed it. I should not care to have 
it read by any one except yourself. 

GRACE — I put it on the blaze, Geraldine, and 
dreamed of the beautiful time I should have as it 
crisped slowly, slowly up the chimney. But, Geral- 
dine, if you should have asked me to remain home 
with you I should have done so. 

GERALDINE — You have had something to worry 
over, Mrs. Dean. Your husband has been here. 



GRACE— My husband 



GERALDINE — Yes, your husband. I could not 
tell you how angry he is. I should not wonder that 
he passed you as you came through the hall. He 
would not listen to any excuses. Your behavior, 
Mrs. Dean, does not look well in the eyes of your 
loving husband. 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 41 

GRACE— Why, how are you talking, Geraldine? 
When did I cease to be Grace and become Mrs. Dean 
to you? Ah, Geraldine, my best and dearest friend, 
you surely tried to explain. Yes, I am sure you did. 

GERALDINE — And I am sure I did nothing of 
the kind, and Mrs. Dean it is impossible for me to 
count you among my friends. Any woman that 
will leave her husband at home and attend a party 
in the company of another man is not my style of 
woman. I cannot tell how surprised I was that you 
did not return at once when Mr. Hamilton received 
word that I had to remain at home. What will peo- 
ple say? You know the world must talk. Mrs. 
Dean attended a party this evening without her 
husband and in company of the rich Mr. Hamilton. 
How does it sound, Mrs. Dean? 

GRACE — 0, Geraldine, you cannot mean what 
you are saying! People dare not talk, for I have 
done nothing wrong. He is your friend and I under- 
stood you were to follow on in the next carriage. 
He, Mr. Hamilton, did not tell me he had received 
any word from you. Believe me, Geraldine, dear, 
and help me. If you turn against me Harry will not 
believe the story I have to tell him. Mr. Hamilton 
assured me that everything would be all right. 

GERALDINE — You are very clever, but really I 
am tired of your stage acting, Mrs. Dean, and would 
ask you to leave my presence. You can return to 
your loving, doting husband and see if he will believe 
the story his innocent, pleading little wife puts up to 
him. 



42 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

GRACE — Geraldine, you are trying to fool me. 
If you mean what you say, think Geraldine, what 
it means to me? Gome, you are going home with 
me. Harry will listen to you. Say you will go. 
You must not forsake me now. Remember your 
promise. 

GERALDINE— Good evening, Mrs. Dean. I do 
not care to witness the rehearsal of your high-class 
comedy. You can tell your husband your own story. 
Furthermore, it is not my line of business to patch 
up family rows. 

GRACE — (Becoming angry.) No, Geraldine Garr, 
friend, betrayer, you perhaps cannot patch up 
family rows, but I shall prove myself pure and spot- 
less in my husband's eyes. I shall betray the trick 
you have played me, false, treacherous friend. 

GERALDINE — You are a very clever actress, 
Grace. I shall call James to show you out. 
(Touches bell, James appears.) James, you will 
show Mrs. Dean the way out. Good evening, Mrs. 
Dean. 

GRACE — (at door.) Geraldine Garr, I will pray 
to God to put a curse on you for this night's work. 
(Exit Grace.) 

GERALDINE— (Alone.) Now, I am sure I am 
well pleased with this night's work, and as long as 
God has nothing to do with my life He will not 
interfere. I have gotten rid of her. It was easier 
than I thought. Harry, Harry, how I have sinned 
for the love of you! If he should take her back I 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 43 

would plan to murder her. She cannot have gone 
far. I must make one more effort. I will order my 
car and reach there first. He must listen to me. 
(Touches bell, James appears.) James, order my car 
at once. Be quick and don't stand staring at me. 

SERVANT— Yes, mam. (Exit.) 

GERALDINE—l shall make a race for life. It 
means life and love to me. (Geraldine exit.) 

(Man servant on stage, arranging table.) 

SERVANT — This sure has been a busy night and 
there's the bell again. I will have no rest tonight. 
Miss Geraldine is on a rampage. (Answers bell.) 
Right this way, Mr. Hamilton. Miss Geraldine is 
not at home. Just left three minutes. 

BERT — Can you tell me where Miss Geraldine 
has gone, James? 

JAMES— No, sir. 

BERT — Gome, James, I think this little piece of 
paper will bring the answer. Out with it, you sly 
old dog. 

JAMES — Seeing that it's you, Mr. Bert, I did over- 
hear her say it was Mrs. Dean's she was going to. 

BERT — Thanks, James, I will call a cab at once. 
It is late. I have business of importance and must 
see Miss Geraldine tonight. (Exit Bert.) 

SERVANT— (Alone.) Well, well, this is strange 
business, but sure my lucky night. Now, if I only 



44 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

had a gal that liked me that well she would not have 
to run after me. There is Miss Geraldine running 
after Mr. Dean and Mr. Bert after Miss Geraldine, 
but I pity the poor little wife, for Miss Geraldine 
has no mercy and she's up to something. 

(CURTAIN.) 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 45 



ACT IV 

HOME OP HARRY DEAN 

(Harry returning, sits at table.) 

HARRY — My home is wrecked. My wife is 
false. Grace, Grace, how could you? And only 
this evening I told her of the struggle I was making 
for better times. This is Geraldine's work, but if 
Grace had loved me she would not have gone. I 
wonder who this Mr. Hamilton is? He'd better keep 
clear of my path. Some tool of Miss Carr's. If he 
loves that woman I pity him. Let her be my friend? 
No, she has broken up my home and ruined the 
dearest thing I had on earth. But I must not stay 
here as Grace will be returning and I never want to 
look in her false face again. I shall take the child 
and go West. I can be no worse off there than I 
am here. Many a good man has made his fortune. 
I will try my luck. (Picks up picture of Grace.) 
Once loved wife. Shall I take it? No, she did not 
love me and if I had that to look at, I would hate her 
more, but I had better take it for the child. I will 
have to tell her of the mother who forsook us for a 
richer man. In years to come she will want to know 
of her mother, then I shall have the picture to show 
her. (Picks up child.) Gome, poor, little motherless 
baby. We shall go far away. You are too young 
and innocent to know of your Papa's sorrows. I 
shall take nothing, but begin life anew. 



46 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

(Geraldine enters. Bert Hamilton appears at win- 
dow in hall.) 

GERALDINE — 0, Harry, I have come once more 
to offer to be your friend. Harry, let me take the 
child and care for her? I shall teach her to love me 
and perhaps it may draw you to me in years to come. 
If necessary I could wait for many years, if in the 
end you should learn to care for me. 

HARRY — Woman, you are insane. Leave my in- 
nocent little child in your care? No, I would rather 
see her in her little coffin and in the guarding care of 
her Almighty Maker than to trust her future to such 
as you. 

GERALDINE — You surely do not intend to leave 
her future to the care of her Mother. No, leave her 
to me, Harry. I shall raise her in that right and nar- 
row path which we are all taught to walk. See, 
Harry, have I not been your friend? It was not my 
fault that Grace was false to you, and as to Mr. Ham- 
ilton, I thought well of him until tonight. Harry, 
he, this flirt, has asked me to become his wife, but I 
could not marry a man that would stoop so low as to 
part man and wife, as he has done this night. I 
hate him, and every time I should look in his face 
I should think of this little home he has destroyed. 
Say you will let me have the child ! I promise I will 
live for her and her only. 

HARRY — You have made a very clever plea, Miss 
Carr, but I understand you and I pity this tool of 
yours. You will please step aside and allow me to 
pass. I cannot breathe the same air as you. Per- 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 47 

haps it will be a pleasure to you to remain here and 
view the wreck you have made of this home. (Har- 
ry exit with child.) 

(Bert enters unknown to Geraldine.) (Geraldine 
goes to window.) 

GERALDINE — Harry, Harry, come back to me! 
I love none but you, dear. I cannot live without you. 
Ah, God, I have sinned for nothing. No, no, it cannot 
be. I did not think he would refuse me the child. 
Well, there is nothing left me but Bert. Bah, I hate 
him! 

BERT — Have a care, woman! I have heard your 
confession of hate for me and also witnessed your 
plea for this man, Dean's love. You have played me 
false. Think woman, for love of you I have stooped 
so low I never can look a righteous and God-fearing 
man in the face again. 

GERALDINE — (Laughing.) So you have stooped 
so low as to eavesdrop? Well, I might as well tell 
you I would not be bound to a wretch like you with 
the words "love, cherish and obey" for the world. 
Me love you? No, I hate the sight of you. I hate you 
so I cannot breathe the same air with you. You 
were a fool to think I loved you. Do you think I 
would have come to you and asked your help in this 
dirty work if I had loved you? No, I love this man 
Dean, and always will with my heart and soul. I 
would not give his little finger for your whole body. 
Bah, what do you know about love? You love me 
because I am good-looking and rich. No, don't touch 
me. You have gone too far for that. Man, I hate 



48 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

you. Cannot you see that? Have you been blind? 
No, I would see you a dog in the gutter without a 
friend and if you were to ask alms of me, I should 
turn you as I am turning you now. I should glory 
to see you burned in the live coals of hell first, That 
is how I hate you! 

BERT — Fiend! You are a she-devil. You say 
you will see me a dog in the gutter and my body 
burned in the coals of hell, but for this night's work 
your life shall pay the forfeit. (Draws knife.) 

GERALDINE—No, no, Bert, don't dare. For God's 
sake listen to me. I will take back what I said and 
become your wife if you will but spare my life, 
which is so dear to me. Listen, Bert, I am too young 
to die. I will go far away with you and be a good 
true, loving wife. Please spare my life. Hear me, 
dear, I do love you. I was only trying your love for 
me. Wait, let me put my arms about your neck 
dear and listen. 

BERT — Ah, fiend, no! you shall never fool me 
again. This is my chance. 

GERALDINE — Hear me, darling, I only wanted to 
get the child and wreck its life the same as we have 
wrecked hers. Bert, you shall have my money, my 
love and I will be true to you. Please spare me. 

BERT — You shall never live to wreck the child's 
life. No, woman, your life shall be my reward for 
this night's work. (Strikes with knife and kills her. 
Light is overturned in scuffle. Moon shines in on 
ghastly scene.) 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 49 

BERT — My God, was the reward worth having? 
I have killed the only thing dear to me on earth. 
Hark, what noise was that? Some one is coming. 
I must conceal my crime. (Drags Geraldine under 
table. Draws cloth down. Bert exits and appears 
at window.) 

GRACE — (Enters, lights lamp.) 0, how strange 
everything looks. Harry, Harry, I say where are you 
dear? I have come home to explain. Not gone, and 
baby, too? 0, God, where could he have gone? (Falls 
on knees.) Harry, my husband come back to me. 
I did not mean to do wrong or to lie to you. Listen 
Harry, she came and tempted me. Gome Harry and 
take me with you and baby. Dear God, hear me and 
bring him back. I did love Harry and what shall I 
do? Where shall I go to find him? I am sure he 
would listen to his Grace. Harry, how could you 
take my little baby from her mother? You shall not 
take my darling to this Geraldine. No, my Harry 
could not love her. Go to my Father? No, he would 
laugh at me. He shall not know. Geraldine, you 
have played your cards well and I have no home, no 
husband, no baby. Mr. Hamilton, why did I think 
of him? I should die first and to her false friend? 
No, never. I cannot stay here. I would have noth- 
ing to pay the rent with. I shall have to leave the 
little home and go out in the big world, and only this 
evening Harry told me of the plans he had made, but 
a serpent has crept into this little home and made a 
wreck of it. Teach music? Yes, I could do that. 
Will any one take me without reference? I can give 
none. From tonight Grace Elliott or Grace Dean is 
dead, and, Miss Geraldine, I know your object now, 



50 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

but your plans shall be as naught. For the last time 
I will say that my Harry would not have her. Good- 
bye, little home, you shall shelter me no more. (Exit 
Grace.) 

BER T— (Re-enters.) My God, what a scene to 
witness, and to know I am the cause of it. What 
will become of that poor little woman in this big 
city. (Throws cover off table back and exposes 
Geraldine cold and dead in all her splendor. Alone 
with his dead.) Hear me, Geraldine, you have gained 
your point, but at what a price. Darling, you drove 
me to despair with your taunting words. No, no, I 
cannot go out in the world and be a fugitive from 
justice. The justice was mine and mine alone. 
Geraldine, my darling, come back, come back to the 
one who loved you most. Look at this poor little 
desolate home. You and I are the cause of it. How 
can I stand it, and this woman that was my highest 
ideal of womanhood, dead and murdered by my 
hand. (Kneels down.) Ah, Geraldine, Geraldine, 
my beloved, come back, come back. Gold, cold in 
death. I never can recall her. No, she has gone be- 
yond my recall. She is with her God. He will deal 
with her better than mortals can, because he is the 
Almighty Judge. 0, God, judge me as I am a sinner. 
You say that your sins can be as scarlet but can be 
washed as white as snow. I have sinned, my God. 
0, how I have sinned for love of this woman, and I 
pray you my Almighty that my sins may be washed 
pure. My earthly Father that was ; but is in Heaven 
now, intercede, intercede for me now. I cannot face 
my Almighty Father, criminal that I am. (Gets up 
and sees empty baby crib.) Poor little innocent 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 51 

baby. Your mother shall be righted some day for she 
is as innocent as you and I will be the one to right 
her. I shall leave a confession. See, Geraldine, you 
shall not have the pleasure. I will right her and 
then — (Takes piece of paper out of pocket and 
writes.) "I, Bert Hamilton, am about to leave this 
world after murdering Geraldine Garr, the woman 
I loved and who led me into crime for her falseness 
to me after I helped break up Harry Dean's home. 
I swear by my God that Grace Dean was as innocent 
and pure as an angel, and did no wrong, and who- 
ever finds this confession will right a great wrong 
if that person will find and give it to Harry Dean, 
and I swear by my God that I have written nothing 
but the truth. Bert Hamilton." I shall hide it for 
the time being. The scandal will be great enough 
but some one will find it in months to come and clear 
her. (Hides paper in old commode drawer under 
the paper. Turns to Geraldine.) There, you devil, 
our crime shall be known. Ah, Geraldine, I cannot 
call you that in death and I cannot live without you, 
so will join you in death where we both can be 
judged of our sin by the same judge. (Stabs him- 
self.) 

(CURTAIN.) 



52 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 



ACT V. 

Scene I. — Harry Dean's Home After a Lapse 

of Ten Years. 

Harry's little daughter sitting on stage. 

SER VA NT— (Enters.) Miss Gladys, your Papa 
sent this home with orders to put it in the library. 

GLADYS — (Laughing.) What a queer looking 
old thing. It must be a hundred years old, but sit it 
here James until he comes. 

SERVANT— Yes, Miss Gladys, thanking you Miss 
Gladys for not ordering it taken up to the garret. 
(Servant exit.) 

Gladys sits down by piece of furniture and opens 
drawers — Now, what on earth can Papa want of this 
musty old thing. For my part I do not care for such 
relics. 

HARRY — (Enters.) Good evening, Gladys, I see 
you are busy. 

GLADYS — Good evening, Papa dear. I have been 
waiting a long time for you. 

HARRY — Well, Gladys, you are eleven years old 
today, and see what Papa has brought his pet. 
(Holds up diamond necklace.) 

GLADYS — (Toying with dress does not see it.) 
Why, Papa, what can I want of such an ill-looking 
old thing as that?' 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 53 

HARRY — But Gladys, you are looking at the 
wrong thing. (Clasps necklace around her neck.) 

GLADYS — (Running to the glass.) 0, thank you, 
Papa. Is it not beautiful? No little girl ever had 
such a dear good Papa. How bright it shines. But, 
Papa, why did you buy this old article and what 
good is it? (They both sit down near old commode.) 

HARRY — Now, you see my dear, it is utterly no 
good, but it has a story. Long years ago I knew a 
young couple that were very poor. They lived in 
an old tenement house. They had just two rooms. 
This was one piece of their furniture and many times 
the young husband went to that old commode for a 
pinafore for their little baby, while his wife sat 
laughing at the little kicking heels. Today I was in 
that quarter of the city and saw this out in front of 
a second-hand dealer's for sale. I dropped in, bought 
it and sent it home. While talking to the old Jew 
I learned that the poor old woman that kept this 
tenement house died two months ago and the furni- 
ture was sold to gather money together to get her a 
resting place. 

GLADYS — (Opening drawers, finds paper.) See, 
Papa, this old paper is yellow with age, but there is 
writing on it. I can make out the name Bert Ham- 
ilton. 

HARRY — For God's sake, Gladys, give it to me. 
I have the right to read it. (Reads confession.) "I, 
Bert Hamilton, am about to leave this world after 
murdering Geraldine Carr, the woman I loved and 
who led me into crime, for her falseness to me after 



54 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

I helped break up Harry Dean's home, but I swear 
by my God that Grace Dean was as innocent and 
pure as an angel and did no wrong. Whoever finds 
this confession will right a great wrong if that per- 
son will find and give this to Harry Dean. I swear 
by the Almighty God I have written nothing but the 
truth. Bert Hamilton." 

HARRY — 0, God, I have wronged her! But the 
evidence and the gown she wore. 

GLADYS — 0, Papa dear, what is it? A letter 
from the dead? Your face is so ghastly, Papa, and 
you have read aloud your own name. 

HARRY — Gladys, I have a story to tell you. This 
old piece of paper belongs to me but it has come too 
late. She, your Mother, may be dead. 

GLADYS — Papa, dear, I have wanted to ask you 
so many times of my Mama. Today little Bessie 
Taylor called on me and she asked me about my 
Mama. Is she dead, Papa? 

HARRY — Gladys I had expected this some time, 
but it is a subject hard for me to talk on. 

GLADYS — Then don't talk, Papa. I did not mean 
to bring sad feelings. You must not feel sad. I shall 
ask again. 

HARRY — Gladys you may as well hear the story 
now. The way I had thought it was for years, until 
this old paper was found this evening. Gome, my 
darling, and sit on Papa's knee. Long years ago 
Gladys your Papa was very poor. That sounds 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 55 

strange, does it not dear? And your mother was the 
fairest creature on God's green earth. She was a 
rich man's daughter and brought up in luxury. By 
the time she was seventeen years old her father had 
planned to marry her off for money. He was a 
greedy old miser. Then she came on a visit to her 
friend, Miss Carr. I was also Miss Garr's friend and 
held a high position in her father's office. For some 
time I had spent the greater part of my evenings at 
the Carr home. I liked Miss Garr but she loved me. 
Your Mama came, and I knew the moment I met her 
that I loved her. She had come on this visit to get 
out of marrying this man, her father's choice, and 
when I asked her to become my wife she was more 
than willing. I told her I was poor, and could not 
afford the luxury that she was used to, but that I 
should work hard and do the best I could for her. 
We were married just one month from the time we 
met. When her father heard of it he sent word to 
her never to darken his door again, but that made no 
difference. We were happy and could do without 
him, and this Miss Garr she said nothing just then 
but did her work later. She had learned to love me 
madly. I did not think of that. I made a cozy little 
home for my darling. We spent one year of perfect 
happiness, then God sent you my darling, to bless 
our home. Another year of happiness passed; then 
the serpent had waited as long as she could. She 
began her work by causing me to lose my position. 
I did not lose heart and tried to cheer your Mama, 
but the time came when we had to leave the little 
cottage and move into two rooms. Your Mama be- 
gan to worry and pine. My child, I cannot tell the 
rest. It opens the old wound. 



56 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

GLADYS — Then, my dear Papa, don't tell the rest, 
but I think I know now why you bought the old 
commode. It belonged to you and Mama. You were 
the young couple in the story? 

HARRY — Yes, my dear, but I will finish. Miss 
Garr came one bright day and planned little by little 
to wreck my home. She caused your Mama to lie 
to me, and to become dissatisfied. I returned home 
one evening to find no dinner ready and your Mama 
dreaming. I asked her in a laughing way if she had 
done nothing but dream all day. She told me no, 
that our friend, Geraldine, had been there for the 
first time that day and that Miss Garr was not very 
well and might send for my darling to sit with her 
at any time. Miss Garr had planned a party; also an 
escort for your Mama. She sent a message while 
I was out and my darling left. Afterwards she told 
me that this Mr. Hamilton made your Mama a pres- 
ent of a beautiful new gown. I saw her in his pres- 
ence and in this new gown. Miss Garr heard them 
returning, and she had me wait and I saw her smil- 
ing bright face in this man's company. I returned 
home, took you, all I had left, and went West. I 
have not heard of your Mama since. Do you think 
you understand the story Gladys? 

GLADYS — Yes, I think I do, but perhaps you were 
too hasty, Papa. She might have explained. The 
piece of paper says she did nothing wrong. 

HARRY — I thought there was nothing to explain. 
I thought she lied to me, went knowingly and wore 
this gown — a present from another man. She ap- 
peared vain and false. 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 57 

GLADYS — But, Papa, who told you this man gave 
her the gown? Did she herself? 

HARRY— (Starts.) No, it was Miss Garr told me. 

GLADYS — But, Papa, this Miss Garr may have 
told you a falsehood. You say she loved you. I am 
not very old, and do not quite understand, but there 
is something about the story that leads me to think 
she, my Mama, was not to blame and was terrible 
wronged. 

HARRY — Many years have passed, and it is too 
late now. If I have wronged her may God forgive 
me. We have forgotten, my darling. It is your 
birthday. Run get your wraps on. We must not 
forget. We are off to the opera. Gall Jane, my dear, 
to help you, as it is late. (Gladys rings bell.) 

HARRY — (To maid servant.) Jane, take Miss 
Gladys, brush her hair and help her on with her 
wraps. 

SERVANT— Yes, sir. 

(Exit both.) 

HARRY— (Alone.) Is the child right? Was I 
too hasty? Gould she have explained? I know Miss 
Garr was a designing woman, but why did not my 
Grace tell me of her former visits? Why did not she 
ask me to take her to this party? She just lied to me 
and went, that was all. 

GLADYS — (Returning.) I am ready, Papa. 
Shall we start at once? 

HARRY — Yes, dear, we will be late now. 

(Exit both.) 



58 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 



SCENE II. 

Street Scene — Grace as Beggar — Crouches 
by Door. 

GRACE — Please, Mister, help a poor woman. 
Every one passes without a cent. Not one cent to- 
day. What am I going to do? Snowing and no 
place to go. Put out once again and only a cellar to 
sleep in. Ah, God, only for my two little rooms, my 
good kind husband and baby. Think, I was dis- 
satisfied. I have tried hard to work, been governess 
and gave music lessons but no one will keep me 
long without references. My father turned his back 
on me in the hour of my need, but I must have help. 

(Husband and child pass.) 

GLADYS — 0, look, Papa, at the poor beggar lady. 
Can we not help her? See how poor and frail she is, 
Papa. 

(Husband and wife look at each other.) 

GRACE — 0, Harry, my husband, don't you know 
me? It is Grace, your wife. For God's sake don't 
turn away. 

HARRY — No, woman, nor do I want to know 
you. 

GLADYS — Papa, can the poor lady be my Mama? 
Please, Papa, do listen. Remember what the paper 
said. 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 59 

GRACE — Harry, let me but touch my little child. 
See, I cannot soil her. My hands are clean, and 
Harry if you would but listen I could explain every- 
thing. 

HARRY — It is too late to explain. (Gives her 
alms.) Woman, let us pass. Gome Gladys. 

GLADYS — Please, Papa, do listen. You are such 
a good kind Papa. The paper said she was innocent 
and did nothing wrong, and Papa I would love to 
have a Mama like other little girls. 

GRACE — Harry, listen. I was tricked and be- 
trayed by a false friend. She sent a message saying 
she was ill. I went. She tempted me to go to this 
party and remained at home herself to blacken my 
character in your eyes. 

HARRY — Stop, woman, don't add lies to your 
shame. You knew of this party and you wore a 
gown, a present from this man Hamilton. 

GRACE — Harry, it is a lie, all lies, believe me 
dear, she, that fiend, gave me the gown and I knew 
nothing of the party until she called that morning. 
Just take me home and I will clear everything. I 
will not care how poor we are if only I can have you 
and my baby. 

GLADYS — But, Mama, I am a big girl. You have 
no baby now. 

GRACE — Yes, dear, think Harry, I have walked 
the streets night after night hoping against hope that 
I might meet you and see my little child. 



60 GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 

GLADYS — Papa, you have a kind good heart. 
Forgive Mama and let's take her home. 

HARRY — Gladys you may bring your Mama 
home with you. I shall try and forget. 

GLADYS — Gome Mama, I will take you home. 
(STREET CURTAIN UP.) 



GERALDINE'S TREACHERY 61 



SCENE III. 

Harry Dean's Home. 

GLADYS— This is our home, Mama. 

GRACE — Harry, it cannot be. This place is not 
our home. 

HARRY— Yes, this, this is Gladys and my home. 

GRACE — Harry, you do not mean that I am to 
stay here? Me, the beggar, that has known no place 
but the streets or a cellar for ten years past. 

HARRY — For God's sake, don't say that, Grace. 
I don't want to think of how you must have suffered, 
but you shall have the home that you wished for 
years ago and more than one servant. But, Grace, 
I will ask you, did you hear of the sad ending of our 
enemy? 

GRACE — Yes, Harry, months later I picked up an 
old paper and there read she met her death in the 
little home she had destroyed, but then in our hap- 
piness she is forgiven the deep wrong she did me. 

GLADYS — Yes, Mama, but you must kiss me and 
then Papa, for you are welcome home. (Grace kisses 
child, then husband.) 

(CURTAIN.) 



APH 33 1913 



APR 23 1913 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



017 400 232 01 



